Desire
by CuteLittleGargoyle
Summary: A short story about Sam, set in the time between major events.


Green. The color in the charcoal dust covered mirror was green. It was a brilliant, lively color that he had revealed by swiping one finger across an inch of the surface. It made him stop and think.

"What the hell am I doing?" Sam asked himself. It had seemed simple enough when he was visiting that friendly psychic, three days ago.

"I can tell that you're troubled, Sam," said Lela. They were in her shop, which smelled strongly of lavender and stranger herbs. Lela herself was in her thirties, still slender as a girl, and possessed the kind of blue eyes that seemed to (and in Lela's case, did) see right through your body and into your soul. She was also the most well-adjusted psychic Sam had ever met. "I could do a reading…?" she offered. The Winchesters did not put much faith in psychic talent, despite all they had seen, but it didn't hurt to ask.

"I'd rather not… but thank you for offering," Sam said sincerely. It was the predictable answer they both had been expecting. Sam stood up straighter for a few seconds and tried to shake the exhaustion away from his soul. It didn't do much good. He just needed a break, he decided. A few hours of sleep, a little time to read something that didn't involve the supernatural, and he would be feeling better than he had in ages. If only that were true. It was getting harder to convince himself of things like that.

"Sam," Lela said quietly, "if you found yourself in a perfect world right now, where would you be?"

Sam gazed at her quizzically. "You know enough about me and my brother to know that it's pretty obvious."

"That's not what I mean," she said. "I don't mean just fixing the things that happened. If there was a world without monsters, and all your loved ones were safe, healthy, and saved, where would you want to go?"

Sam took a moment to think. It was a fairly straightforward question, not too different from the ones he remembered on his college applications. But… "I don't know," he said slowly. "There isn't really a reason to try and imagine it anymore."

Lela shook her head. "I wish that weren't true," she said. Sam shrugged. "It's not like I need start excavating my psyche right now. Actually, I don't know if I'll ever have the courage to do that." They stood in awkward silence. Lela was thinking hard, and Sam was trying to figure out if he needed to make another run for hunting supplies. Or maybe pie; he felt like doing something nice for Dean. Lela had disappeared into the back of her shop. She emerged with a single, crisp sheet of paper, which she passed to Sam. "This is a harmless ritual," she told him. "No blood sacrifices or soul selling required. I think you should give it a try some time. It might be able to restore the part of your soul that lets you daydream." Sam raised an eyebrow. "You've tried this?" Lela nodded. "A couple of times. Mostly, it just showed me things I already knew. No side effects, I promise." Sam looked at the paper. It was a straightforward ritual, described like a recipe in a cookbook. "Any mirror works?"

"Uh-uh, whatever you have on hand," Lela told him. When Sam left her shop, he had the paper folded in his back pocket.

The next few days were quiet, as if the supernatural world had decided to give them a vacation. It left Sam with plenty of time to think, for once. The things Lela had said occupied his mind. Did he really not have it in him to imagine that world where he and Dean no longer had life threatening, apocalyptic kinds of trouble knocking their door down? Finally, he gathered the ingredients for the spell and set up the appropriate precautions. Fifteen minutes later, all he had to do was wipe the charcoal dust off of the enchanted mirror and it would reveal what he secretly wished for. And apparently, whatever it was was bright green. Other than that, Sam had no clue. He stood up, careful not to rub off any more charcoal as he grasped the mirror. Deliberately, he walked up the stairs, out the door, and down the path to the ravine at the back of the bunker. He stared down for a moment or two, then forcefully flung the mirror onto the rocks below. It shattered into thousands of glittering pieces. Sam sighed heavily and turned away. The sad truth was that looking into the mirror would hurt too much.

Thanks for reading!


End file.
